MoonshineThe moon rose high in the night sky, twinkling and beautiful to most; but the man standing tall beneath it was being tortured. The animalistic instinct ripped through him, pulsing through his veins, intensifying each beat of his heart, repeating his mind 'kill, kill, kill', making him unable to control himself-
A sob ripped through the man, and the wolf in him howled, a mournful sound that so often haunted the man's nights.
He took off at a run, the ground thundering beneath him, letting him know he is alive.
Because it doesn't feel like he is. Not really.
He is different from everyone, and broken- precious few knew how broken. And now they all were gone.
Red dripped down the man's face, running down the smooth crevices that were his scars. A paw was placed on his face, and the man sighed. Another day, another scar. The story of his life.
The moon shone brighter, and all he could think about was how he couldn't even control himself. The memory of each time his uncontrollability had been broken by his friends was just a nightmare, a never-ending curse that reminded him of how they weren't there. They were dead, gone- and now he was all alone, broken and silent. A monster.
The wood was silent as the man stepped gingerly through it, exercising a control he could rarely achieve. The darkness only added to his mood, making his life seem like a hopeless nothing. What was left for him anyway? He could fight for the good side, which of course he was anyway, but he would never be accepted. He was different, a freak, a monster. The people in the Order accepted him, liked him even, despite the way he couldn't control the animal inside him even when the moon didn't shine. The man was grateful for that; he wouldn't have been able to go on even one more step if it hadn't been for the open arms many members of the Order had offered him. But it wasn't, couldn't be, the same. The man couldn't find a job. He couldn't go anywhere for fear of the moon. Everything revolved around that white orb that hung from the sky, taunting him, torturing him.
The man hated the way he still looked like himself, in a twisted sort of way. His eyes were darker, more hooded; the body of a werewolf, but the stance of a man; the same scars; but they were hidden by blackened skin in the darkness; the same hands, but longer, more dangerous. He was still himself, but a mangled version. Controlled by the moonlight, by the animal inside.
A branch cracked under his weight, and he was startled back into the reality of his pain. It was real. He couldn't lose himself in memories, no matter how hard or how much he tried. The instinct was pulling against him now, stronger with each beat of his heart- it urged him to hunt, to kill, and he didn't want to. He hated the animal inside.
A smell wafted across the trees as he ran, and he immediately stopped, trying to fight it but unable to. He didn't want to kill; the lives he took under the full moon were innocent.
Pacing quietly, as to sneak up on his prey, the man maneuvered through the trees and the undergrowth with the stealth of a trained killer. As the scent grew, the man listened with sharpened hearing for any sound of movement, any source of fear that would be radiating from the enemy as he drew closer. There was none.
The man fought against himself, as he always did, and finally gathered the strength to throw his head back and howl. Years of being a werewolf in the moon had taught him that sometimes, if you give the prey time, they can escape before you kill them. It was all that kept him sane. He tried. He tried.
There was still no movement from anywhere in the woods.
The man moved on, quietly, practically silently, his padded paws stepping gently over the rocks and thorns that threatened to cut the gentle skin. The animal must have been hurt, the man supposed- how else could it be not moving?
The man arrived in a clearing surrounded by trees, with thin grass waving in the blackness. He was surprised. This wasn't natural, was it? It couldn't be.
There was no animal in the middle of the clearing. It was a young woman, and immediately the fight inside began. He hated killing people. They weren't as innocent as animals, but they had more to give. They had families and friends, just as he…. had had.
He lost the fight, as usual, and stepped into the clearing. The young woman looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears, her mouth open in a silent sob.
The man howled again when he recognized her.
In his howl, he put every emotion he could- get out, get away, leave, before I have to do this- please, I don't want to kill you-
She didn't move, instead, she rose and stood strong, human against werewolf, magic against magic.
Pain against pain.
"Please," she whispered.
The man knew that she was asking for more than her life. She was asking for love.
He stared at her for a long minute, his insides pulsing and his heart racing. Alone, he was alone, he always had been- ever since he died- and now here she was, standing in front of him, asking. Asking for his love.
He turned and ran, leaving her in the clearing. He had won the battle. He hadn't killed her. Running and howling, he left her; running and howling, he mourned his uncontrollability, his inabilkity to make a decision. He mourned the fact that one question sounded in his head when he recalled what had happened: could he truly love someone?
The moon shone as he ran, unstoppable. He pushed away every thought, fighting everything inside of him until he became nothing. He became nothing. He ran and ran through the forest, to escape.
--
He saw her again the next week. He was in the same forest, but the moon wasn't above; he simply came to be alone, even if that was how he was always. The forest was a part of him, and it became to be his sanctuary, the one place he felt safe. He was a werewolf here; he was a man here.
She was in the same clearing, and as much as he wouldn't admit it he had gone looking for her, wanting to see her. He had ran away from her before. He was coming back to her now.
She was there, just as he had expected her to be. The darkness suited her just as it suited him.
The same shining wet eyes and the same silent sob were visible on her face, even without the light of the moon to shine on them. He stood at the edge of the trees, his face bleeding from the trees, just as they always did.
She didn't notice him at first; she wasn't expecting him. There was no moon to draw him here, tonight.
But when she did notice him, the silence that seemed to shatter her body didn't allow her to stand.
Instead, he walked silently over to her, the same instincts he had as a wolf translating to the stealth he needed as a human. He was a wolf. He was a human.
He sat down beside her, the sky above them completely black, not a star in sight. They were both silent, until she spoke, her voice a mere whisper even to his sharpened ears.
"Why?"
"Why what?" he breathed back, not looking at her, laying back on the grass, his arms behind his head. Looking at the sky.
"Why didn't you kill me?"
It took only a second to answer. "I couldn't."
"Why?" she asked again, and this time he knew he couldn't avoid the truth.
"Because…" he began, and she looked at him, the depths of emotion in her eyes making him pause. "Because I love you."
She stared back at him for a long moment, a single tear trickling down her cheek. In a second she was in his arms, and they both were crying. For once, he was the strong one; his arms wrapped around her, his chin on her head. He was comforting her, and in the same instance he was comforting himself.
"I'm not afraid of you," she murmured into his chest. He shook his head gently, but didn't reprimand her.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered. "I'm a monster."
"No, you're not!" she said sharply, kissing him tenderly, contradicting her emotions. "You're not. You didn't kill me last night. And I love you all the same."
He kissed her long and hard, the animalistic instinct controlling it, and she gasped with pleasure when he pulled away, burying herself deeper in his arms. They stayed like that for a long time, the dark sky above them. They had both been alone, and they had both been suffering.
They weren't alone anymore.
And for once, he felt strong enough.
--
Please review. If you couldn't figure out who this was based on, then you really need to go reread the Harry Potter books Please, please review.
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